Waddya Know, Whiskey!
by Appetens Scriba
Summary: Stiles is sad and drunk, Derek is brooding harder than anyone has brooded before, as per usual, and Stiles needs a place to stay for the night.


"So I was super sad about it, but then I remembered whiskey and HEY waddya know I feel better!"

Stiles snorts and giggles, and Derek wonders why he bothers to leave his house.

Apparently, Scott had dumped Stiles for the 'billionth time in the past day' for Allison and as a result Stiles was 'super sad'. It had 'upset the balance of their broship' and Stiles 'didn't know what to DO with himself'. Derek rubs his forehead and glances over at Stiles, who's grinning and red in the neck with the window open. Somehow, Stiles had gotten a hold of a bottle of whiskey at a party and had made a significant dent in the fifth, which had resulted in him being completely obliterated, but had also resulted in him not being able to drive himself home, which he had to do because no-one could stay at the party because there wasn't actually supposed to be any alcohol at said party.

So, because Derek just so happened to be lurking around the house keeping an eye on Scott, he just so happened to see Stiles stumble toward his car, fall off the sidewalk into the grass, hobble back onto his feet, and fall onto the side of his Jeep. Even though he acts like maybe the broodiest of all brooding werewolves, he can't bring himself to let Stiles take himself home. So now he's driving Stiles's Jeep to Stiles's house.

"Where're you taking me?" Stiles words are just falling out of his mouth.

Derek swallows a laugh and says, "Your house."

"No!" Stiles twists around to face Derek, but gets tangled in his seatbelt. As he goes about untangling himself he says, "Oh my god Derek you can't take me home because if you take me home my dad will murder me for like ten different reasons and he'd know how to cover it up too cause he's the sheriff and no-one would know what happened to me!"

"Stiles - "

"No really you can't!" He finally manages to untangle himself and reaches out with his hands to grab onto Derek's arm. Derek glances down at Stiles's hand with clear threat in his eyes, but Stiles apparently has the kind of liquor goggles that prevent one from perceiving an obvious threat. "Listen, okay? Listen... okay?" Derek is annoyed beyond words, but he's also waging an internal war against his urge to laugh. "'member when I was driving you to your house and you were all like 'Uuuuhhh nooo I can't mehhhhh' and I was like 'Dude what do you want me to do?' and you were all like 'I dunno but if you don't take me somewhere I'll eat you!', right? Remember that?"

Derek sets the back of his first firmly against his mouth and clenches the wheel a little tighter. Stiles still hasn't let go.

"Okay, well, I totally drove you wherever, so now you have to do the same thing for me, and I'm not even gonna threaten you to get you to do it!"

Stiles jerks his hands away, unbuckles, and scoots himself closer to Derek so he can latch himself to Derek's jacket and shirt.

"Pleeeeaaasseee don't take me home!"

"Jesus Christ, Stiles, fine!" Derek laments to himself as Stiles rocks back and forth in victory and jumps back to the other side of the Jeep. He returns to smiling out the open window.

He takes a left to his house instead of the right Stiles's house. He clears his throat and says, "You realize there really isn't anywhere to sleep there?"

"Where?"

"My house."

"Oh." Stiles turns to look at him with a pronounced frown. "So... where do you sleep?"

"In the only room that isn't entirely a burnt husk."

"Is there a bed?"

"There's a mattress."

"Other furniture?"

"Kind of."

"Oh." He licks his lips and stares open-mouthed for a moment, then asks, "Are you the sharing type or do I have to sleep on that crappy sofa in what I guess used to be your living room?"

"Crappy sofa."

"Aw but c'mon I'm adorab – "

"Sofa."

Stiles crosses his arms and pouts out the window.

When they get to his house, Stiles basically falls out of the passenger seat and slams the door shut. Derek glowers at him from the other side of the car and Stiles just shuffles of with his lips pursed and his eyebrows near his hairline. Derek, again, wonders why he ever bothers leaving the house.

Inside Stiles has already sprawled himself along the ashy sofa on his back with an arm slung across his face. Derek pushes open the door to the room he sleeps in, which used to be the dining room, and tugs off his shirt and boots and pants. He lies on his side under the covers, allows a brief chuckle when he thinks of Stiles, and eventually manages to sleep.

A few hours later he wakes to an arm around his waist and something warm against his back. He's pretty sure Stiles nuzzled himself against Derek's back about as closely as he could manage, because Derek could feel him breathing on his shoulder, which means Stiles probably has his face shoved into the nook between Derek's shoulder and the mattress.

Derek sighs.

"Stiles." Derek swivels his head and stares at the ceiling. "_Stiles_."

"Mmph."

Derek shifts around onto his back and scowls at Stiles, who's sleeping shirtless with his arm across Derek's stomach and his face pressed into the mattress. His nose twitches and he's got this tiny little frown, and Derek wants to punch him in the face.

He nudges Stiles with his elbow. "Stiles, wake up!"

Stiles jerks his head up, eyes barely open. "What?"

"What are you doing?"

"Sleeping. Duh."

"Yes. But why are you in my bed?"

He lets his head fall back down as he says, "Squeaking."

"Squeaking?"

"Mice. In the sofa." Then he adds after a breath, "Fuck that."

Derek opens his mouth to tell Stiles to go sleep with the mice, but then Stiles is once again immobile. He sighs and lays his head back. After a while he's almost dozed off again, but then Stiles shifts against him. He does it again, and Derek is frozen.

Stiles makes a noise in the back of his throat and presses himself closer to Derek, and Derek's pretty sure if Stiles knew what part of his anatomy was jabbing Derek in the thigh, he'd be something along the lines of horrified.

Stiles pulls his arm back a little and his hand moves from curled against the mattress to resting on Derek's stomach; his muscles jump as Stiles curls his fingers and his nails lightly scratch his belly.

"Stiles."

Stiles grunts and stretches his arm straight out and ceases moving completely. Derek rubs a hand over his face and decides to never let Stiles sleep at his house ever again.

Derek somehow dozes off, but is awake again about an hour later. He's back on his side, and he's been pushed to the edge of the bed; he feels something pressing against his middle back and thighs. He turns around and finds that Stiles is pushing him away with his hands and feet. Derek finds it ironic that being the only normal human amongst Stiles's group of friends, he's the one that sleeps like a dog with his arms and legs stiff and stretched out.

Derek's nearly falling off the bed, so he grits his teeth, pulls Stiles by an arm and pushes him onto his back. Stiles just grumbles something incoherent and flings his bent legs away from Derek; Derek returns to the center of the bed, rolls onto his stomach, and glowers at Stiles.

Daylight is peaking through the window. Derek managed to sleep a few more hours before, again, he woke to find himself in another overly-comfortable position with Stiles. He's pressed himself up under Derek's arm and against his side, so that he's basically got his head in Derek's armpit. Derek's still on his stomach, and he can feel Stiles's arm wrapped across his shoulder and his hand beside his neck.

Derek doesn't want to admit it, but he's… content. His house is dark and damaged, and all of his happy memories burnt up along with the walls. It's lonely, really, and waking up is usually something he wishes he could avoid. This, though, isn't an entirely unpleasant way to wake up, the morning still a little grey and someone warm and sweet pressed against him. Sweet? Derek smothers a groan and presses his face further into his pillow. Stiles isn't sweet. Or adorable.

Stiles sighs and his hand curls against Derek's neck, and Derek drifts back to sleep.


End file.
